Showing posts with label Creeley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creeley. Show all posts

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Coming Home...



Words

You are always
with me,
there is never
a separate

place. But if
in the twisted
place I
cannot speak,

not indulgence
or fear only,
but a tongue
rotten with what

it tastes- There is
a memory
of water, of
food, when hungry

Some day
will not be
this one, then

words, like a
clear, fine
ash sifts
like dust,

from nowhere.


Robert Creeley









: In Public
: New York Times
: Op-Chart A Year in Iraq and Afghanistan